Enough
by allissariddle
Summary: Harry has a sudden realization of independance, he's had enough, things are going to go his way, but not without some unexpected friendships along the way. Independant!Harry, HHr, and some serious powers and slytherin like qualities!
1. Changes

Disclaimer: not mine yadeeya!

Rating: so far for language, what can I say harrys a fowl mouthed twat…..not me at all….

I wont yap on, just enjoy the show ladies and gentlemen……!

A typical British summer had once again imposed itself upon privet drive. Rain battled with the immaculate windows, cars and flowerbeds as dark clouds descended from the sky. The street was a ghost town of mirrored houses, all inhabitants hidden behind drawn blinds, all aside from one young boy, though perhaps young is not the word. Despite his small frame and pinched appearance his eyes held the wisdom and disappointment of a boy who grew up beyond his years, a boy who had endured suffering, a boy who had gone to war with faith, and lost a meaningless battle.

Harry Potter stood beneath the street line outside number four, rain streaming beneath his too many times-repaired glasses, masking the tears that had become so familiar. His once unruly black hair lay flat and dripping against the scar which bained his life. It was at these times, when he was alone and contemplating, that his misery hit with full force. His miseries could not be picked alone from the din, but swirled together until released through his eyes, once so bright. Misery though, fortunately for Harry, was not his usual state, anger was so much easier. And so it was that anger which Harry immersed himself in. Anger at himself, Dumbledore, the ministry, his friends.

He felt the anger rising through the misery, until he could not hold his own emotions. The clouds overhead became darker, the rain lashed his face and finally he let go. A roaring, almost primal scream travelled from the pit of his soul through his mouth, releasing the anger and misery of his last year, not masked by the thunderous groan of the heavens.

A flash of lightening fell uncomfortably close to the silence of Privet drive as Harry held his face in his hands. His mind felt unnaturally clear as his eyes, gleaming with sudden realization, snapped up toward the clouds.

If one listened carefully, you could hear the single word pass violently through his usually muted lips.

"**_Enough"_**

Harry paced his bedroom, uncaring of the endless books, clothes and parchment he treaded on in his frantic attempt release his new found energy.

'_What happened, something changed...something inside me. What do I feel? Anger? No not as much...hurt? I hurt for Sirius...but not for myself. This is a sign, I need to change, accept my path, my destiny. Can I follow Dumbledore and battle against the dark lord? No, it seems wrong somehow, but I cannot hide from what is ahead of me. I have fought voldemort, basilisks, dementors...and came back from it. I have to believe I can do this, I have use what I have learnt for the greater good. The greater good? Yes, for the future of our kind...not for Dumbledore, not for Hogwarts, not for me. I will fight for those who have gone before me...for Cedric...for Sirius. _

_Yes Dumbledore ill fight your battle, ill play my part, but hell, ill be damned if I don't do it on my own terms!'_

Harry knew Dumbledore would not take this information with kind. He knew he would have to fight him and perhaps his friends. His friends…..how would they take it? Ron his best friend since his very first ride on the Hogwarts Express, would he help? Would he support his decision? Harry could not help but think back to the Triwizard Tournament….Ron had not been supportive then, yeah sure he had come through in the end, but only because of Hermione. Hermione, how would she take it? Harry smiled his first smile of the summer as he imagined her flapping around like a headless chicken, berating him for his rebellious stand against authority. His smile quickly disappeared, would she stand by Dumbledore? Stand by the order? Then amidst his questioning thoughts a picture appeared in his mind. He could see her eyes, clear as day as she handed him so toast right after the fight with Ron. The unquestioning trust which he had seen in them led him to believe that Hermione knew him better than anyone, better than himself. She might not understand his actions at times, but she had an unwavering acceptance of him that he had never seen in anyone. She would understand, he would have to take his time to think about Ron, but with Hermione he was safe, always.

Who else could he trust to accept his stand, to help him in his quest to meet his fate head on? Two unexpected faces entered his minds eye. One a boy, round faced and fair haired. A nervous smile appeared on his face, but in his eyes Harry saw a courage that was ready to come out, a courage Harry had seen in the department of mysteries that year. The second was girl with long dirty blonde hair that fell in rats tails behind her overly large blue eyes. Luna, Harry thought. At first he had considered her ditzy, weird even. But that conversation they had had at the end of last year, if it could be called that had shown Harry something in Luna. That behind all her beliefs and quirky ideals was a brain and intuition that rivalled Hermione's. He wasn't quite sure why but he knew he could not do this without her.

He would write to Neville and Luna this summer, get to know them, let them know of his stand, but his first port of call was Hermione. He took out a quill and piece of parchment from beneath his floorboard.

_**Dear Mione',**_

_**I know I havnt written all summer, but as you probably know, iv had a lot to think about, and believe me when I see I have thought about it. I need to talk with you, without ron, just me and you. Could you meet me in Diagon Ally tomorrow? Tell your parents your getting your school stuff. Don't worry about me getting past the ever watchful eye of the order, ill find a way. **_

_**I want to thankyou mione, for showing your trust in me last year, even if it was unfounded, for fighting and for being brave the way you did. Im so proud to have you as a friend, I don't think I say it much, but I mean it I promise. Don't let Ron know where we are going. Let me know if you can make it?**_

_**Love always,**_

_**Your friend Harry.**_

That should do it he thought, hoping she wouldn't let ron know about it. He lay back on his bed, thinking, not noticing the growing darkness engulfing him. He looked at the clock, not for the first time realising that it was his birthday tomorrow. '_16, I cant believe I made it to 16. Well if I have anything to do with it ill make it to 80, sitting in a chair with my slippers and pipes while all my little grandchildren run around me, all with their bushy hair and green eyes….BUSHY HAIR? Oh dear, not a good time to think about this harry.'_

Just as he wished that train of though would stop, he was blessed with a relief of all thought of bushy children, unfortunately the distraction came in the form of a searing pain travelling from his toes to he head. He just had time to acknowledge the clock downstairs as it struck midnight before drifting swiftly into unconsciousness.

Harry woke to the sound of the sunrise. He felt drained, soaked in a cold sweat as he tried to remember what happened. With great difficulty he slipped up off his bed, his legs almost buckling beneath him, as he tried to cross his room to the door in hopes of making it to the bathroom. As he walked slowly across room he noticed a sudden disorientation, eyes snapping up to the mirror. He stumbled backwards at the vision that met his eyes. It was him there was no doubt of that, his green eyes still shone back at him. His face was still the same but his features had taken on a definition that could be described as nothing but manly. His shirtless torso had also morphed into a more well defined chest with muscles that certainly hadn't been there yesterday. His hair was still as unruly as ever. It was then that Harry noticed the reason for the disorientation; he had grown, not enormous amounts, perhaps 3 inches on his normal height, making him a respectable 5"9, tall for his age.

'_Jesus shit! What the fucks going on?'_

It was then that Harry was distracted by a tapping at his window, Hedwig! He went toward the window opening wide to let his bird through. Attached to her leg was Hermione's reply, but before he could open the parchment he was again distracted by a large, stately black eagle owl that flew through his window dropping a piece of parchment arrogantly on Harry's unruly mess of hair before flying straight back through the window. Harry put the letter to the side as he opened Hermione's reply.

_**Harry,**_

**_Im so glad to hear from you, iv been so worried about you! Of course ill meet you, and I promise not to tell Ron. Thank you Harry for what you said, you don't how much they mean to me, but I will say that if it weren't for you I would never have got through that dreadful night, I just hope you can start to lean on me in turn with everything you've been through. Just remember im always here for you. Ill meet you outside Gringotts at 10:30, cant wait to see you,_**

_**Love always,**_

_**Hermione**_

With a decidedly unnatural flutter in his stomach and a smile twitching on his lips he reached for the letter on his bed. The writing on the front was almost archaic in its style and silver ink, giving off an immediate sense of aristocracy. Harry looked at the family seal on the back of the envelope, searching his memory for the reason he recognised the name. Then it clicked, but why? Why would a slytherin pure blood family be writing to him? Oh well, he thought, guess ill have to find out.

The seal was a deal blue with two silver swords crossed over a moon, entwined with two green and black snakes.

The swords were engraved with a message; those of strength and quiet faith.

The seal read Zabini.

Well there you's go! Haha, expecting malfoy? No such luck sorry, but he will come later in the story worry not! I hope you like it, this is my first fic, flames accepted, id really like to know what you think, id love to carry it on. So go on press the little purple button, if you do ill give you all Malfoy shaped cookies…..


	2. Chapter 2 Hermione finally!

Okay massive thanks to my Beta sempracaveas03 who promises to also go on and redo all those grammatical errors that littered in chapter one, I hope this is better for you!

You know the disclaimer: Bite me

Good to see everyone agree's on my ships, and if you don't, bite me! Lol Thankyou for your reviews I am far too lazy and in the middle of finals to reply to them all, aside from Dark Lord Potter, who loves my story so much he refers to it in the lude of ways :)! Thanks mate, this is for you!

Harry teased the old, waxen seal; his slender and unusually agile fingers unaccustomed to the feel of it. A chill of unfounded expectation ran through him.

'_What am I expecting?'_

Lifting the upper flap, his fingers snaked their way through the envelope to the thick piece of parchment, slowly pulling it from its encasing. An elegantly spiced scent enveloped him as he fingered the parchment in his hand. _'It's now or never.' _He flipped it over and read, done in the same archaic hand, with growing intrigue and suspense.

_Dear Young Lord Potter_,

An eyebrow rising at the introduction, he carried on, curiosity mounting.

_Perhaps you are surprised that a man such as myself would be writing to the infamous 'Boy-Who-Lived', though I would request you to take a moment to think before you allow your thoughts to carry you a plane of bias which includes all things Pureblooded, Slytherin and, above all, evil._

_I'm quite certain that you're asking yourself many of the same questions that I've had about you: 'Are you truly all that different from those of Slytherin's noble house? After all, your cunning and your abilities aren't too far from that of are own. Does your dismal past not set you far from the natural, dark side? Oh yes young Potter, I am not ignorant of your abusive upbringing. The answer, young Lord, is no; whether or not you are willing to except your true self is irrelevant, for I know you Potter; from a distance, I am much closer than that muggle-loving fool. 'How' you ask. Well Potter, to that I give you three words; your mother, Lily._

_I know, young Potter, that you have been labouring under the vision of your beloved mother as a true, pure Gryffindor. Yes, perhaps she was brave and noble, that I cannot deny. But she was also cunning, manipulative and sly; oh believe me, I say this not as an insult; truthfully, words such as these, coming from as true a Slytherin as this, are of the highest honour. Though her ancestry was not pure, and my Slytherin fallacies were, at first, in ignorance, I slowly came to know Lily for who she was, a truly wondrous woman._

_Friendship became easier throughout our latter years at school, and I although I held no love for your sickeningly Gryffindor father, my love for Lily I cannot deny; though, let me assure you, I never acted upon it, mostly due to your wretched father; my love for her led to a trust and understanding so complete that before her wedding night she entrusted me with a most important and grave secret. It is a powerful secret young Potter, a secret of lies and deceit, but a great and grave one none the less. This secret of course concerns the only person your mother ever truly loved: you. It is a confidence that cannot be revealed in writing._

_I would ask a favor of you Potter, I would ask for your trust. Granted Lord Potter, my interests lie neither with the so-called light side, nor do they lie with Voldemort. My interests lie with myself and the protection of my beloved family, and, though it pains my Slytherin pride to say it, this cannot be done without you. I know you are cautious Potter, and of course you should be after your undeniable stupidity concerning last summer's events; for once, Young Lord, let your heart lead you, as much as it disturbs me to say it; it never dealt your mother an unlucky hand._

_Undoubtedly, Lord Potter, you know of my family; perhaps you know my son from school, though perhaps not; Blaise is a quiet boy, unconcerned with fame and glory. I know my son, and most especially my father, will be very interested in meeting you, along with the rest of my family._

_This letter will act as portkey to my Manor in England, if used at the correct time and with the proper activation words. Do not worry about the old fool's order or wards for, Potter, some magic is too ancient to be meddled with by those who see only in black and white, as you shall soon find out. If you wish to become acquainted with myself and my family, as well as to encounter your destiny, merely touch your fingers to this letter at midnight, the day after tomorrow; I shall leave you to ponder the activation words. _

_Yours in earnest,_

_Viscount Ramses Vasilios Zabini, _

_Chancellor of the Unspeakables, Department of Mysteries; Ambassador of the Persian Empire_

Harry let the letter fall from his hand to the floor. He stared at the wall, yet saw nothing. The letter, so full of provoking and inscrutable ambiguity, could not even begin to fully register in his mind. His thoughts were pursuing through once discarded memories: the Sorting Hat and its Slytherin confessions; his mother's defiant, cleverly astute, and calculating face from Snape's pensive; and lastly, a stormy sky which bore each and every one of his dark emotions as he said '**_Enough'._**

Harry's new-found caution told him to burn the letter, write to Dumbledore, and retreat back on his utterances of independence, of control over his fate. His heart told him something quite different. His heart told him to trust the Zabinis; Harry remembered Blaise from school, but as Viscount Zabini had said, he hardly stood out.

For once his heart had also aligned itself with his mind; the part of his mind which had awoken to dark clouds the previous day. It was clear and sharp, it understood the man's questioning of light and dark, and his acceptance of both. It accepted his temperament, skills, and past, and ultimately it accepted the Slytherin within; it had awoken the Slytherin within. A smirk played on his lips as he considered the letter's departing mystery: the activation for the portkey. His emerald eyes became sharp, his pupils pinpoints in a mass of green.

'_Ponder?'_

A teasing, almost cruel laugh escaped his smirking lips. He need ponder nothing. For the answer stood boldly in the sea of elaborate comments. It spoke to him, more boldly than the noble Gryffindor; more clearly than those inanely twinkling, blue eyes. It cried out as though it was the answer to his destiny; a sudden realization tearing down old beliefs and values.

_Those of strength and quiet faith_

Shaking his head, unable to deal with any more, his mental and physical state running on borrowed energy, he lay down on his bed, head hitting his pillow...

And then all was black for Harry Potter as he drifted into a grateful sleep, and despite his day of drama and disclosure, his mind was filled only with thoughts of bushy hair and searching hands.

Harry woke early the next day, unable to understand why he was finding such uncontainable anticipation at the prospect of seeing Hermione. He showered, and pointlessly ran a comb through his perpetually messy hair.

'_What to wear', _Harry thought. '_Why the hell am I thinking about what to wear? God man, you're turning into a girl!_ _Could it be… nope not a chance Potter, you're not even going down that road!_'

He pulled on a predictably voluminous sweatshirt, and yet another habitually over-large, ripped pair of jeans; all Dudley's old clothes that the Dursleys wouldn't even dare to give to charity baskets, but would always allot to their nephew. They almost hid his newly defined frame.

'_Shame', _he thought mockingly,_ 'I'm going to have to get some new clothes; I better do that today.' _And in a more excited tone considered, '_Hermione's a smart girl; she'll know how to help me!'_

Harry wasted away the hours considering his meeting with Viscount Zabini until it was finally time to go. Of course, he wasn't about to actually leave until the ever-watchful birdies had been taken care of.

Ever since Harry had returned from Hogwarts he had been quietly, but particularly, nosy about his guard. Over a few weeks time, Harry had grown to know their shift patterns. Tonks and Mundungus were recognizable by there snoring, whereas Mad-Eye Moody was recognizable only by his silence. He felt Remus's watch with a strange sort of comfort, but due to the low snoring he heard from his window he could tell it was Dung today!

With his new found Slytherin prowess, his lips shaped into a recently distinctive smirk.

'_This is going to be too easy!'_

Harry slowly climbed onto his windowsill, holding a small paperweight in his right hand. From the sound of the snoring Harry discerned that Dung was almost directly below him. As soon as it came, the wave of guilt passed, and Harry concentrated on dropping the paperweight around 45 degrees to his left. He heard a muffled, sickening thud and then, in one smooth, agile move, he jumped from the window to the flower bed below, hoping that Dung would simply be under the impression that he had drunkenly passed out….with an abnormally large egg on his head.

'_I'll deal with that when I come to it.'_

After hailing the Knight Bus, hiding behind his gravity-defying hair, and finally reaching the Leaky Cauldron, Harry entered Diagon Alley.

As usual Harry was in awe at the bustling life of Diagon Alley. The summer vacation was definitely in full swing as mothers dragged their children from shop to shop, and fathers and sons ogled this summer's latest broom in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Something was different though. Harry usually felt some sort of resounding warmth while watching the crowds in Diagon Alley; yet now, rising slowly from the pit of his stomach were feelings of anger and contempt.

'_They don't know; they don't know what's coming, what's ahead of them. They run around like the most important thing in the world is reaching Madam Malkin's before it closes, buying those newt eyes before they run out of stock, or catching the last bus home. They know nothing; and yet, I am left with this weight upon my shoulders. Kill or be killed, he says? Ah yes, ignorance is most certainly bliss. For you can give me instructions, write your articles about my glory, or my shortcomings, but you'll never truly understand. Hell, I don't even understand; but I feel, and soon I'll begin to understand. And when I do, the last bus home will most definitely be the very last thing on your mind.'_

Harry was jerked from his angry soliloquy by the sound of his name being shouted above the crowds.

'_I know that voice!'_

He was almost knocked off his feet as he was engulfed in a storm of hair and arms.

"Harry! Oh I missed you, how are you? No that's a stupid question, what's happened? Look at your hair, and you're taller? Harry what's going on? We really need to find out. Let's head to the library, I think I know a book…."

"Hermione," Harry shouted to bar her relentless chattering and questions, a content smirk curling at his lips, and then turning into his first real smile of the summer.

'_God I love it when she does that.'_

Before she could open her mouth again he had engulfed in another hug, feeling at home with his best friend, before feeling uncomfortably aware of her newly acquired chest.

"Harry, really, how are you? Tell me what's going on, I want to, need to help you."

After leading Hermione to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, Harry recounted the past two day's events as Hermione listened in silence.

As he finished his story, most of which he had told to his nervously fidgeting hands, Harry sheepishly looked up at Hermione, his eyes questioning her on his story. Yet as she continued to remain silent, her eyes focused directly on Harry, making him uncharacteristically uncomfortable, he finally voiced his question.

"Well?"

Her eyes moved to the table's top, then back to his eyes.

"Well, it doesn't take Ron to see that something peculiar is happening, but what I want to know is: what does it have to do with the Zabinis? Yes, yes, I know you say you trust him, but I'm still going to warn you to be careful. We don't know very much about this man and his family, though I do recall a book I read on Wizarding genealogy in our fourth year about the Pureblood families, and it did seem to backup what the Viscount said about being neither light nor dark. I see the light's ignorance Harry, I always have, perhaps it's my ambition; at least, that's what the sorting hat said."

Hermione smiled wryly at the shock in Harry's eyes.

"What the Sorting Hat said?"

"Yes, perhaps now is a good time to tell you Harry; what with your newly discovered Slytherin qualities and your own confession about the Sorting Hat's choice. The Sorting Hat, in my first year, did enlighten me to some parts of my nature, that, for a long while now, I chose to ignore or to ignorantly reason with. The Sorting Hat only put me in Gryffindor, because it couldn't decide between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Yes I know, a muggle born in Slytherin? I was shocked as well; as chance has it, I would have been the first muggle born ever to enter their house; this is perhaps what made the Sorting Hat unsure. Nevertheless, it found me ambitious and apparently somewhat shrewd in my outlook. It found my natural ability for all things curricular and told me I was destined for great things. I was shocked to say the least, as I was hoping that I would be placed in the 'most noble' house of Gryffindor."

Harry was shocked at the apparent scorn upon her face; the almost cruel curling of her lips as she spoke.

"The sorting hat found this of course, and let me choose me way; much as it did with you. I can't say I've never looked back since; a part of me is always wondering how I would have gotten on in either house, Slytherin in particular; but this matter's trivial, what really matters now is you."

She finished her speech with a pointed look at Harry, who looked upon her in newly dawning awe.

"So what do you think I should do?" he posed.

"Go to Zabini; stay on your guard, but go. You need some questions answered Harry, and I would like to be enlightened too. What can I say? I've an insatiable curiosity!" She said with a grin on her face.

As she smiled Harry noticed the little changes that had obviously taken place over the summer. Her hair was tamer, still wild and unruly, but somehow more charming in the way blew in the breeze, never falling back into place. Her features were more well-defined, making her golden-honey brown eyes stand out; which seemed, possibly due to the pains of the previous year, to hold more depth than ever before. Her figure was slowly changing as well. She was still small-framed and very petite, an almost elfin look about her; but now she had the air of a young women rather than a know-it-all bossy-boots, though perhaps that was just her newly-changed outlook on life.

Harry had to quickly stop his appraisal of Hermione before she knew it had begun.

"So, what's the order of the day?" she asked.

"Well I've told you I want to be ready; I was thinking of raiding my vault. I need money for some new books; yes, 'Mione, books! Maybe something in the area of defense: practical transfiguration in battle, charms, hexes, jinxes, Occlumency, Legilimency, even physical combat, and if we can find them, some Auror training guides. I should also have a second wand, some gym equipment, and I'd like to get a serpent for a second familiar!"

Harry grinned as he stated the last order on his list.

Hermione matched his grin, thinking that it would be nice for Harry to talk to someone, or something, this summer.

"Well looks like we've got one long day ahead of us Potter! Anything you want to add to that short list?" She practically drawled.

Harry looked down at his, once again, fidgeting hands.

"Harry…"

"Well I was thinking, I'm pretty sick of Dudley's old hand-me-downs, you know; I was hoping that maybe it would nice or whatever if we could get me some newer stuff, clothes I mean; and you know, I'll probably need them for training and stuff, and…"

"Harry, do you just want a bad-boy look to go with your new attitude," Hermione teased. "You'll be the next Draco Malfoy before we know it!"

"I will not," Harry huffed indignantly, "and I don't want a 'bad-boy' look, and I'll need clothes for training, and … don't look at me like that!"

Hermione threw her head back laughing, which Harry, despite his embarrassment of his unfamiliar need for a change of sorts, soon joined.

"Right," Hermione said, regaining her usual command and composure, "Let's get organized, we'll never get all this done if were not organized; first we'll get the books, then your new wand, and then I think it's off to Muggle London for the clothes and training equipment; a short intermission for lunch obviously…"

"That's the 'Mione I know," Harry said jumping up from his chair, slapping her playfully on the back, and running before she could enact her revenge.

After a trip to Gringotts, in which the Goblins stayed uncharacteristically polite, Harry and Hermione spent at least two hours in Flourish and Blotts, before leaving with at least fifty books; luckily the shop owner had been quite happy to give them bags charmed to be feather-light due to their 'insanely' large purchase.

"How about going to Olivander's next, Harry? I'm sure he'll be thrilled at the prospect of a second wand buyer; that is, if it works."

"What do you mean '_If it works_'?"

"Don't you remember what Professor Flitwick said about the power levels involved?" Hermione inquired.

"No, I just remember reading about some of the people in our history texts having a second wand; that it was really effective in battles you know; so I thought it might be better to have one and start practicing with it, but what's it got to do with power levels?" he asked.

"Well, I've also been reading into defense, you know what with last summer and all; and in a book Professor McGonagall sent me, along with my lecture notes from Professor Flitwick's class, explained all about wand combat. They talked, of course, of all the greats, Godric Gryffindor, Grindelwald, and many other important wizards in history, like Dumbledore, and, of course, V… Voldemort."

Harry smiled at Hermione, '_Merlin this girl was changing_.'

"Anyway, you should notice Harry, that all those who have had secondary wands before have been just that, Greats! It depends entirely on a person's raw power level as to whether they can acquire a second wand, if they have enough magic to share between the two so to speak; for a wizard or witch must bond with their wand, most especially the wand's core. There are standard tests of course, but to pass them…."

"A wizard must have an extraordinary amount of power; yeah, I got the memo," Harry sighed.

Hermione turned to face him, looking deep into his eyes.

"Its no reason to give up you know Harry, I mean we know your powerful, to be able to stand up to V-Voldemort all these times, to have been able to get through last year alive; really, to get us all through last year alive!"

"I fight out of necessity Hermione, you know that; I fight what's in front of me and tend to look no further; Sirius is one example of that!"

"You're looking ahead now Harry, looking to train, to grow."

"Maybe," He sighed. "I guess there's no harm in trying, right?"

And with that both teens entered the darkened, old shop; the entrance bell tinkling in anticipation as they stepped across the threshold. The shop was cloaked in shadows, and Harry could see nothing but a void filled with dusty shelves and boxes; certainly there was no sign of Mr. Ollivander. Then, suddenly, Harry's senses kicked in, and he could feel eyes creeping onto the back of his neck. His arm leapt to Hermione's shoulder as he jumped in front of her, staring at the shadows that had previously been behind him.

"What is it Harry? There's nothing there," a rather shocked, Hermione stated.

"Quite the contrary Miss Granger, I believe I am a little more than nothing," a silky voice admitted from the darkened corner Harry was staring at.

Mr. Ollivander slid out from the shadows, beady eyes narrowed on the two youths.

"Astounding reflexes, Mr. Potter; I dare say you play sport," He smiled smoothly, if not a bit scarily in Harry's direction.

"Yeah, what can I say? I have a great spidey-sense," Harry said cagily, his haughty and acerbic demeanor giving off a Malfoy-like air.

"I dare say you do Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander said, obviously the very muggle reference was not completely lost on him.

"So, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger; how might I assist you today?"

Harry began to get nervous, _'What if I don't have enough power; what if I make a complete fool of myself? What if he laughs at me? Oh no! What if Hermione laughs at me?'_

His panic, masked by his cold demeanor, began to spin out of control, 'til he could hear the blood pumping unusually fast through his head. And then, quite suddenly, the ornate oil-lamp, which had previously stood in the corner emitting a haunting glow, flew across the room, smashing unceremoniously into the bookcase behind Mr. Ollivander.

The shop owner seemed untroubled by the flying lamp, uttering a quick _reparo_ before turning back to face Harry.

"A second wand Mr. Potter?"


End file.
